Redemption of the Angel
by socasm
Summary: Terrence, on request of his grandfather, begins the search for the Phantom of the Opera. He follows the history after Erik is saved from death by playwrights that aren't as they seem. Even a romance with one of the playwrights while they are pursued by a relentless Lord bent on destroying them and reclaiming what's his. The journey of discovery, redemption and romance was found.
1. Chapter One Chasing Phantoms

****Disclaimer: I do not own any fraction of the Phantom of the Opera! Only my plot and characters.

I am back to and trying again with poto!

Please read and review if you like it.

**Chapter One| Chasing Phantoms**

The raindrops fell to their death on the window if the cab creating a crime scene splat before falling the busy streets of Manhattan. As tempting as it was to lean his temple against the cold window, he resisted the urge despite himself. The streets appeared dreary and distorted in the falling rain. A bleak sky and the various buildings formed stiffed lines against the slate background. It was home.

It was not spring as a matter of fact it was in the middle of June only the year had been highly irregular. The man watched the raindrops without any particular interest seeing the street signs flash before his eyes.

"Are the flowers for the wife?" The burly cab asked looking through the rear view mirror to look at the man who clearly needed to shave and gain some cheer.

Flowers? The man looked to the irises that were sticking out of the paper grocery bags. The ring was still on too. A plain silver band that had miniature scratches running all up and down the sides. It sure as hell did look as if he was still married. A small painful sting traveled down his spine but only responded in despondency. "Um. Yeah..."

"My wife always prefers roses." The cab driver said at a vain attempt to make small talk.

The man didn't respond only just played with the ring on his finger twisting it slowly around his finger. "She loved roses too, especially those ice roses."

The word loved being in past tense brought the short conversation to an end. As it turned out the mans apartment building was on the right. The man paid the cab driver and began to gather his things when the man said one more thing.

"Hey man, don't worry. Life has a way of finding an exit for our heartbreak that leads to something new. Don't be afraid to take it." The burly cab driver said with a surprising amount of friendliness. It was clear that the man was either immune from New York was new. After Terrence paid the man he closed the door beginning to walk to his apartment with a sense of dread.

Entering the early 20th century building he took the black and white stairs to the top floor. He had began gathering his keys before he laid eyes on a slim figure standing by the door. His heart skipped a beat, Victoria, she was here. Much to his disappointment it was not. The woman was one foot taller or it was her red pumps. From the roots it started as a dark brown before it began to become lighter with honey streaks that needed updated. The few strands he could see touched her cheek in sleek waves. The honey brown eyes twinkled in a mixture of intelligence and boredom. Her gray pencil skirt did not match the vibrant heels and the white sleeveless top formed to her lithe body. She was beautiful but gave an aura of being untouchable.

"Terrence Fletcher?" The strange woman asked though it sounded more like a statement. Her voice did not purr or bark it was simply in between without any sugar or honey. There was not an accent he could place either.

"Yeah?" Terrence answered simply staring at the woman only beginning to wonder why she was standing here waiting for him and what she wanted.

"Would you prefer Terrence or Terry?" She asked again as if she was doing a checklist. Strange question.

"Terrence." He responded finally finding his keys. "What is it that you want?"

"I'm here because of your grandfather, Clyde Fletcher." The woman responded just as he had. Short and brief but the answer was there. "I'm his personal assistant you could say."

"He's dead and I got my inheritance, so what other business could you have with me?" Terrence responded not giving into his weariness or the slight agitation that was beginning to burn in him. Work had been hell. There were deadlines that were not even feasible. The widow hadn't even given any good information for his obituary only blubbering. It meant the had to return tomorrow and work with her yet again.

"He wanted you to do some research for him but didn't think you were ready for it. But just when he thought you were able to do it, he well, croaked. Ironic isn't it?" The woman explained. "If you are curious I'm Vera Mohren."

Now Terrence was confused what could the man who thought he was disgrace want from him? He had went against his grandfathers wishes to become a journalist. For the New York Times like most journalist said but only managed a second rate paper that had only fluff columns and barely made enough revenue. "He wanted work from his worthless grandson? That's something I never thought I would hear. Would you like to come in Vera?"

"That would be great." Vera said her red lips forming a small impersonal smile. "Well we both know that the man had a stubbornness of a boulder. Towards the end of his years he was glad you became a journalist because it served his purpose."

It sounded like his grandfather, Terrence decided as he unlocked the door to his apartment picking up the groceries again and entered. It was as if Victoria hadn't left. The living room portion was still cleaned with their wedding photos on the entertainment center. The kitchen had been organized to his standards but still remained the same with the copper vase she had loved so much on the center of their small table.

"What did he want from me?" Terrence asked her as he began to place the paper bags down. He mindlessly grabbed the copper vase and filled the bottom with water placing it back on the center of the table and placed the iris in the center.

"I thought you were separated." Vera asked distracted by his actions before she realized what she was supposed to do. "Anywho, he wanted you to investigate a story he had heard when he had been in Paris. He became obsessed with it but wanted to to finish the leads with your skills. There is a good reward."

"I am separated. I just can't stand to see the table without flowers." He explained controlling the sigh that wanted to emerge. It was both tragic and romantic but he found himself going to side of pathetic. "What would he want in Paris? History was not his favorite subject."

"No but he did like a good mystery." His guest said touching the tip of the yellow and red iris with the tip of her black fingernails. "Especially a mystery that would make your family look more important potentially."

It did sound like him. Terrence agreed mentally as he looked to the strange woman curiously. An old mystery and linked to the proud Fletcher family that rose from poor Irish immigrants to titans of scholar and business. It was suiting. He waved his hand urging her to continue speaking.

A grin formed on her face. "It's a daunting task and some think it impossible. But we will be chasing a Phantom. Phantom of the Opera to be exact...There is more information if you choose to accept. But I guarantee it will be an adventure you won't regret. And you get me as a side kick. I do kick some ass in the research department."

"I get to do freelance research without a time limit and there is a reward?" He asked smiling despite himself. It was any journalists dream to crack a case that was cold and have no limits. It was what he needed to break out of the miserable rut he was in. "What sort of reward are we talking about."

"About ten grand. That's nothing to sneeze at." She chuckled dropping her hand to the table as she turned her eyes to him. "So are you in or not?"

"In." He stated simply acting on the impulsive side that rarely seen the light of day. "When is our plane?"


	2. Chapter Two Leads

**Chapter Two| Leads**

****_Paris 2012_

Heels clicked on the false black and white marble floors of the hotel. The steady rhythm of one and two followed to the white walls as she navigated around the chic hotel, two coffees in hand and a small brown bag emerged from the vibrant red purse. The woman drew no attention from the clerk or any other guests as she roamed to the elevator pressing the opaque button that sat by a white bold number saying five.

The hotel was like most other modern hotels in great cities. Instead of a traditional awning it was a metal and glass awning and inside it was designed to be not only feng shui but also chic and modern. They didn't build grand hotels like the used to she lamented to herself.

Vera Mohren always enjoyed the older sophisticated taste to the more modern. It had more integrity and soul than just metal beams and stylish mock marble. In fact she found this day and age quite drab and boring. Facebook existed but only for five minutes once every two weeks when her mom was beginning to get frustrated from not hearing from her wayward daughter.

The dark curl assaulted her face much to her annoyance as the elevator land and her clicking heels no longer made wonderful noises on mock marble but on soft but thin carpet. It was so sad. Despite her obsession with the color red she was also OCD. There would be no stepping on cracks or even loosing the eternal rhythm she had perfected. It was one of the many perks of being Vera Mohren.

Once Vera had pretended she would be normal. She went to church since her father was a minister. She dated the foot ball star for a year. She attended college to become a registered nurse in Toronto before she decided she wanted to work in a retirement center only because of the fact that old people had awesome stories. It was then she let her OCD flow free and strange personality to take over.

Taking out the spare card key, Vera entered Terrence's room to see his lumbering figure slumped over the desk his right hand writing away on an awful legal pad.

In the corner of the desk was discarded colored clips that Clyde had long since obsessed over for an unknown reason. But the man had been OCD with organization with a semi unorganized assistant. It made for great fun.

"Clyde would be cursing right now." Vera chuckled placing the coffee to the side of him. He was a strange but handsome figure. It was a sort of Heathcliff handsomeness. He was in desperate need of shaving as the five o' clock shadow was beginning to threaten to grow to more. His eyes were the lightest blue eyes she had seen and they were intense two when he was focused and distant when he was not focusing. The man stood at least six feet but was not the normal brawny men but was more lean than built.

"He always told me I should use the colored clips to organize my works and folders too." Terrence Fletcher said without looking up. "I thought you were going to be back in just fifteen minutes."

"I got distracted. I love to watch people move around cities and see the top of buildings meet the sky." Vera verbalized taking out the small bag out. "And croissants and a very interesting French pastry."

"Thank you." He said mechanically but continued to write. "Take a seat, I think I found a few leads."

"All right then." She said taking the other seat and sat by him as he used one hand to push over the papers for her viewing. "This isn't necessary I was the one that photocopied them."

"You did? Oh, right...I should have figured. Anyway I'm sure you are aware of the story of the Phantom of the Opera." Terrence concluded taking some of the papers back finally the scratching noise of the writing had stopped much to her relief.

She nodded in confirmation.

"I thought it was strange that he just let her go." He continued and didn't show any signs of stopping. His brilliant eyes was intense as he turned his eyes towards her.

"It was because he did love her. Or at least respected her enough not to kill the man she loved and go to a life she truly wanted. But I did too when I first read that." She agreed with a nod, once again to show him that she was truly following what he was saying.

"I was wondering where he could have gone. There were so many reports of the sighting of the phantom but they are ridiculous. One man reported seeing him flying in the sky and giving him a death glare." The Journalist snorted in disbelief.

She laughed at the report. It would be something a crazy person would say, personally she had wanted to see that herself.

"But then I found this article that seemed feasible and strikes me as very unusual. Also the question of where he would go and how did he escape the mob? A disfigured man would be noticed among people who regarded beauty above their own morality." He continued on and pushed another paper towards her before his gaze traveled to the mass of papers.

Taking the article she found the one showing a sketch of what the man was supposed to look like. No nose, mask covering his face and thin lips twisted into a scowl from hell. Below was an article outlining the description and events as told by a Armel Buquet. He described the man fleeing the scene looking sick like and frail. He had tried to confront him about his brothers death but failed.

"I would not let a man who killed my brother just escape or attempt to confront him." Vera frowned. "This seems fake. He was a brother of one of the first murders. And apparently this phantom dangled a body during a showing of The Immortal. Now that is bold."

"It is. The man did something and the police or reports was covering something or someone up." He said seriously taking the paper back once she was done placing it in another pile. "I just can't find any traces of who or what this event is."

An idea struck her, she snapped her fingers in her immediate thoughts surprising Terrence at the sudden snap.."I think I may have an idea. I'll need to confirm it. But towards the end Clyde was beginning to obsess over some operas and plays. They aren't popular anymore. They were written by two men from Ireland and are actually quite brilliant. Of course that wasn't what he was obsessed over. I don't know what it is, but maybe they have something to do with this."

"Who were they?" He asked intrigued.

"Liam Sullivan and Reagan Drescol. Don't worry about them though. I'll take care of them and you take care of Armel Buquet." Vera beamed at him finally drinking her coffee but immediately regretted getting the hazelnut coffee. It was disgusting.

"Alright. I can work with that. I'm just going to get ready, I'll see you later." It was an immediate dismissal but she wasn't offended. She rose placing the chair back, next she took her coffee and purse leaving the pastries for him.

"I'll see you tonight then." Vera said and started out the door feeling the rush of a lead. There was more to this than she had expected. It was only just beginning to be fun too.


End file.
